


Recourse

by Forsaker



Series: A Step Ahead of the Hunt [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Consent Issues, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Facials, Painful Sex, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forsaker/pseuds/Forsaker
Summary: It was just this once, Ciri told herself. And no one would ever know.





	Recourse

The muddied streets of Novigrad were even less welcoming after sundown than during the light of day. The rain may have stopped just before the night fell but the wind sweeping between the houses and buildings made staying outside far from pleasant. Most people had by now found a way to stave off the cold, either by their own hearths or in a tavern nearby. The only signs of life the city saw was the grumbling of guards at their postings and the occasional lone figure rushing across the wet pavement to then disappear into the darkness.

 

Then there was Ciri.

 

The young woman stood on the corner of darkened alley, hugging herself for warmth. Her clothing provided little of it, barely enough to keep from freezing. Finding a place to sleep would be a necessary, and more than a little difficult task. The last coppers she had were spent day ago, and though she didn’t really expect to find much work in the city, it turned out not even the outskirts had much need for monster slayers. She’d tried telling herself it was due to the city guard doing their job and keeping the surroundings safe, but the condescending tone and mannerisms she faced when asking for work told a different story. It seemed that despite the sword on her back, people were generally dissuaded from hiring her by the youthful appearance. _To hell with them,_ she thought. Maybe when their guts are split open by a nekker they’ll come around. Either way, there were more pressing matters to worry about right now.

 

She glanced at the sword she’d left leaning against the stone wall, and with a deep sigh sat on the nearby crate. Her eyes darted up and down the street, hoping her luck would take a different turn. Yet no idea came to her, no chance presented itself. Her mind wandered aimlessly for a while when a voice came from her right.

 

“How much?”

 

She turned to the man who spoke the words and glanced over him. Bald, fairly well built, with a coat she had no trouble recognizing. A witch hunter. Her jaw clenched at the sight of him, willing herself against reaching for the sword behind her. Though it would be easy to gut him then and there, the last thing she wanted was to draw attention herself. The street was deserted, but she had no idea what kind of methods of tracking witch hunters employed and since she needed to say in the city for at least a couple of days, having their entire order on her heels was extremely ill-advised.

 

“Are you deaf? I asked how much.”

 

The meaning of his words suddenly dawned on her: the despicable man had mistaken her for a whore. Well, that was one type of entertainment he’d be looking for elsewhere.

 

“I’m not...” she began, but he quickly cut her off.

 

“You’re one of those types, eh? Fine, fine. How much for your mouth then?”

 

Once again she was taken aback by his words. The mere suggestion of kneeling at his feet and sucking him off made her sick. She was about to tell him to sod off and drop dead – as politely as she could of course – before the reality of her situation caught up with her. Dawn was nowhere in sight.  She was tired, sleepy, hungry. The very prospect of anyone else passing by was dubious, let alone someone who might help her. Teleporting anywhere would not only drain her energy further, but draw the attention of the Hunt.  As revolting as the proposed idea was, she was forced to consider it.

 

She looked over him again, torn between two unpleasant choices. But then the thought of him leaving and significantly lessening the chance of finding a lodging for the night drove her to answer.

“Forty coppers,” she echoed the price she’d overheard in an inn earlier that day. It would’ve been wiser had she included some coin for the food, but she didn’t want to price herself out of some work. The moment she had that thought, she winced inwardly. This wasn’t her _work._ This was a one-time thing that nobody would ever know about and something she’d put out of her memory the very next day. But for now, the witch hunter seemed to accept.

 

“Fine,” he muttered, then went beside her, further into the darkened alley. Luckily for Ciri, he hadn’t noticed the sword placed against the wall.

 

She followed in his footsteps until he stopped, looked up and down the alley and then started unbuttoning his trousers. Making a conscious effort to not appear disgusted, Ciri looked down at his flaccid manhood and groaned inwardly. The idea of getting this done with quickly was instantly gone. Nevertheless, after removing her gloves, she forced herself to kneel and started stroking his cock. The knowledge he was probably looking down at her with a smug face made her keep her eyes forward, as she slowly pumped his rod into a semi-erect state. Though more than a little reluctant, Ciri closed the distance and enveloped his cock-head with her mouth. Even as her lips laved over the glans, she couldn’t escape how nauseatingly alien it felt to her. This wasn’t exactly the first time she’d done something of the kind, but there was a stark difference between thanking a cute stable boy for helping her out and engaging to what essentially amounted to whoring herself for a few coins. That thought alone drove her to speed up her ministrations: pursing her lips to better stimulate him, intermittently licking across the under-side of his shaft.

 

She was bobbing her head up and down almost desperately, yet beyond the fully erect state of his manhood, the witch hunter didn’t seem too affected by her efforts. Which was just as well, since it allowed Ciri more control over the degree of entry. Convinced that accepting a little over half of his rod would be more than enough to get him off, she vigorously sucked while holding his base, hoping he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Barely had she begun wondering whether the better place to let him finish would be her mouth or her face, the witch hunter grabbed the back of her head with both of his hands and with one strong thrust buried the rest of his length down her throat.

 

Ciri’s eyes widened in shock, throat screaming at the sudden invasion only for suppressed gurgling to barely leave her mouth. She tried pushing him away as she struggled for breath, attempting to suppress her gag reflex and keep herself from throwing up. The only response she got was a deluge of cum that exploded in the back of her throat, flooding her esophagus so much that semen burst out of her nose. A vague notion of revulsion and hatred began bubbling up inside her as she glared at him, eyebrows furrowed in rage, her eyes red and teary. Yet she forced herself to endure, letting him deposit his revolting seed into her belly and hoping she doesn’t pass out before he’s finished. Each new spasm of his cock brought more of his cum, most of which she swallowed, while the rest trickled down her chin or through her nose.

 

At last he released her and she fell to the ground, wheezing and gasping for air as she coughed and spat out the repugnant juice coating her mouth and throat. She instinctively reached up to wipe her nose, once again suppressing the urge to vomit. Blinking the tears away, she slowly regained her breath and vision and she saw him standing there with his cock still hard. It was a good thing the sword was out of her reach or else hers would’ve been the last mouth he fucked. As it was, she glared at him until she felt capable of speaking again.

 

“My... my coin,” she demanded hoarsely. The witch hunter, however, didn’t reach for his trousers, either to pull them up or to get the coin.

 

“Not just yet girly, we’re not done.”

 

The urge to kill him started to reaper. If he thought he could trick her... “That’s not what we agreed on. I want my forty coppers.”

 

“Yeah well, I want an eager little harlot like you servicing me every mornin’, but that aint happenin’, is it? If you’d done a proper job I wouldn’t still be hard as a rock. You must be new at this. The rule is: no payment until the customer’s satisfied. And I aint satisfied.”

 

Bloody bastard...

“Now then, bend over that crate and let’s get this over with.”

 

Those last words appealed to Ciri immensely. There was just one problem. “I... I haven’t taken my potion,” which was technically true. She’ll be damned if this vile brute was to be the one to take her virginity.

 

“Ah, well,” he smirked, “not a problem. You don’t need a potion for where I’m goin’.”

 

Faster than she could react, he grabbed and flipped her over the crate, tearing open her breeches before pulling them down. The idea he wanted to take her back there caused her to look back in panic, but he viciously swatted her ass as if to dissuade her from any thoughts of escape. For her part, Ciri held on to her edge of the crate, mind trying to rationalize what she was agreeing to: Being sodomized for a couple of coins. But she tried telling herself that he’d already come once, so this would be quick, and she did need the coin lest she freeze to death on the streets of Novigrad. The irony that her current flushed state kept her quite warm wasn’t lost on her. Perhaps if he kept using her body in this vile manner, she won’t even need to find a hearth.

 

For a brief moment she felt his cock against her back entrance, before he grabbed her hips and thrust. The stab of pain caught her completely off guard, she almost screamed her anguish into the night as her body tried escaping the brutal assault of its own volition. Yet the witch hunter held fast and impaled her deeper, apparently unconcerned they might catch the attention of the guards. A part of Ciri hoped that would happen, but then she’d be left broke again. If she wasn’t so preoccupied with trying to survive the ordeal, she would’ve remembered this part of Novigrad contained several brothels and screams of wanton passion and even pain were a frequent occurrence. But such matters were entirely lost on her as she felt the witch hunter’s cock come to a stop for a second, offering momentary reprieve before retreating and driving into her all the way. He began fucking her in a steady pace, and all Ciri could do was grit her teeth and endure. Her white-knuckled fingers gripped the edge of the crate, eyes teared up from the pain and yet she vowed to see this through. That childish stubbornness with which she trained to  fight monsters preserved some semblance of clarity in her mind.

 

Little by little, she got used to feeling of her insides being violated and began to anticipate the pain, almost relishing it. It was a test of strength, yet another proof that she could survive in this hostile world all on her own. And if that survival entailed getting ploughed into incoherency, then so be it.

 

The crate shook with every thrust, a startling reminder of what she was doing. There was no ecstasy or pleasure of any sort to be lost in, no refuge for her mind to wander to. The cold air was filled with the grunts of the man sodomizing her and her own stifled groans. She imagined what the two of them would look like to a passer-by who happened to glance down the alley: A not uncommon imagine those later hours, just a cheap whore bending over for a few coins. A rush of embarrassment flooder Ciri when she thought of herself as such. She may not have been a streetwalker, but her current predicament certainly painted her as one.

 

It would’ve been easy for someone else to wander down the alley, a man or two, or more... waiting for their turn to violate her slender body. She would be far too fucked out of her senses to notice, and they’d take turns on her, one after the other, filling her with their revolting seed. And when Ciri’s mind was no longer her own, they’d rob her of her innocence, plunging into her most sacred sanctum to defile her fertile womb. She’d have neither the will nor sense to stop them, her legs would spread of her own volition, her cunt tight yet yielding. They’d discard her there all used up, every orifice sore and overflowing, her thighs and cunt quivering from the orgasms still wracking her lithe form.

 

At least, that’s what her mind had managed to conjure up.

 

In reality, the witch hunter was speeding up, slamming into her ravaged rectum with increasing force. Ciri had wondered if witch hunters did actually use endurance potions like she’d heard and sure enough, he rammed into her for a long while before he finally unleashed torrent of cum deep into her bowels. Their union was too tight for even a drop to escape, and Ciri was caught off guard by the soothing feeling filling her, relieving the sore and sensitive nature of her desecrated insides. The relief was such that she almost smiled from it.

 

But the witch hunter gave her no opportunity.

 

He grabbed her body and forced her to the ground facing him, her head leaning against the crate as her eyes slowly fluttered open to the scene of the brute stroking his cock right in front of her. The urge to push him away was too weak, her mind barely strong enough to curse the potion the man drank to make himself constantly hard.

 

He emptied himself over her beauteous features, one ropy strand of cum landing across her cheeks, her nose, over her eyelashes. She muttered a half-broken protest but offered no further resistance and she resigned to the repugnant man covering her with his seed.

 

When he was finally done, she expected the sound of a coin purse falling beside her to mark the end of it. She was wrong.

 

“Now then,” he spoke with wheezing breath, “only one hole left.”

 

Ciri glared at him angrily with the one eye that wasn’t sealed by semen. The anger at the suggestion that he still meant to take her virginity had barely begun to bubble inside her when a loud, dull thud reached her ears, and the witch hunter collapsed on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

 

The ashen-haired girl wiped clear her eyes as much as she could, only to see a dainty female figure standing there with a wooden log in her hand. When it approached, the moonlight reveled it to be a freckled redhead, her eyes kind but tinged with worry.

 

She dropped the log on the ground and proffered a handkerchief to Ciri, which Ciri gratefully took and used to quickly clean her face. If only her shame was as easy to wipe off.

 

The redhead leaned down to help her up, since Ciri was too tired to do it on her own or even be mortified at her state. Somehow she managed to pull up her breeches and button them up, hoping her new companion hadn’t noticed her dripping back orifice in the darkened alley. If she did, she didn’t say anything.

 

The girl then knelt down the untie the coin from the witch hunter’s belt, viciously kicking him two times for good measure.

 

“Bastard,” she muttered, and then proffered her hand to Ciri. “Come.”

 

They slowly walked down the alley, arm in arm.

 

“I hate how those animals treat you girls,” the redhead muttered. You girls... Ciri didn’t bother correcting her. “I’m Bea, by the way.”

 

“Ciri,” the ashen-haired girl responded. “And thank you for...”

 

“Don’t be silly,” the redhead waved off her apology. “We all need a little help sometimes. Oh, I believe this is yours.” The coin placed in Ciri’s hand felt a lot heavier than just forty coppers, and just as well. Gods know she’d earned it. “Do you have anywhere to stay?”

 

“N-no, I... I think I’ll find some...”

 

“Oh no, you mustn’t” Bea insisted. “You’ll stay at my inn.”

 

Ciri glanced at her in surprise. “You have an inn?”

  
“I do. And you are welcome to stay there for as long as you wish. Unless you insult me by trying to pay, of course. Then I’m afraid it’s out on your pretty little arse.”

 

Ciri chuckled at the friendly banter, miraculously feeling much better. As they walked by her sword, she leaned to pick it up, which Bea seemed to find curious but made no comment on it. They resumed their walk, with Ciri occasionally glancing in admiration at the other girl. Somehow she knew they would end up being great friends. But she had no idea just how close they would really become.

 

 


End file.
